What Friends Are For
by lahmrh
Summary: When Spock gets food poisoning on shore leave, Kirk is there to help. Gen.
**What Friends Are For**

Kirk strides into Spock's quarters without bothering to knock. "Why aren't you on the shore leave roster?"

He watches as Spock rises from his seat at the desk, one eyebrow going up. "I am not in need of shore leave, Captain."

"I don't believe that," Kirk says, crossing his arms. "And neither does Bones."

That seems to get Spock's attention. "You have discussed this situation with the doctor?" he asks.

"Yes, and he thinks some time away from the ship would be good for you." Kirk frowns. "Well, he didn't put it that way, but that was the gist." McCoy's rant was filled with terms like 'pointy eared hobgoblin' and 'goddamn computer', which he senses won't be exactly helpful in his mission to get Spock to take shore leave.

Spock folds his hands behind his back. "Is that his medical opinion?"

His tone indicates that any answer other than 'yes' will be taken as an invitation to ignore this entire conversation. Kirk considers lying, but the thought of what will happen if Spock finds out – and he _will_ find out – stops him.

He sighs and decides to just come clean. "Look, Spock, you haven't taken a single day of leave since we set out. You spend all your time working, and I'm-" _worried about you._ He cuts himself off before he can finish that sentence and starts again. "It would mean a lot to me if you beamed down." He shrugs. "The hotel the rest of us are staying at still has rooms free. You can go off on your own and explore or do science-y things or whatever you want, just please come?"

He doesn't really expect it to work, so he's shocked when, after staring at him for a long moment, Spock says simply, "Very well."

Kirk blinks at him. "You'll come?"

Spock nods slowly. "As you humans say, I suppose it would not kill me." There's the barest hint of humour in his eyes, and Kirk can't help but grin.

"Great," he says. "Put yourself on the roster, and I'll see you tomorrow."

 _That was easy_ , he thinks, as he makes his way back to his quarters. _Maybe we are becoming friends._ The idea makes him smile.

* * *

Spock doesn't know quite why he allowed the captain to persuade him into taking shore leave, but he beams down the next morning with a small group consisting of the captain, Lieutenant Sulu, and Ensign Chekov. The latter two disappear off towards what looks like a casino as soon as they materialise, leaving Spock and Kirk alone.

"The hotel's just over there," Kirk says, pointing to a large building made of the same sandstone-like material as all the other buildings, and they begin making their way over.

Spock has spent most of his time alone since his relationship with Lieutenant Uhura ended, but he finds that the captain's presence is not unpleasant. He lets Kirk check in first, before doing so himself. Kirk waits for him, and accompanies him on the journey to the elevator.

That is where they part ways, however, Kirk's room being on the fourth floor, and Spock's on the fifth. As the elevator ascends, Kirk turns to him and says, "I know I said you could do whatever you wanted, and I stand by that, but I wondered if you'd like to meet up for dinner?"

"That is acceptable," Spock tells him, and Kirk grins.

"Great," he says. "Meet you in the lobby at 1800?"

"I will be there," Spock replies, as the doors slide open on Kirk's floor. He watches as the captain steps out and heads down the hall to his room, before the doors slide closed again and the elevator once more begins to move.

Minutes later, he unlocks the door to his room and looks around. It is small, but sufficient for his purposes. He unpacks quickly, storing his clothes in the closet and his toiletries in the bathroom, before heading back out, intending to visit the nearby botanical gardens. His research indicated several points of interest in the area, and the system-famous gardens are at the top of the list.

The gardens are as aesthetically pleasing as promised, containing plants and flowers from dozens of worlds. He comes across a patch of sunflowers and is hit with a memory of helping his mother tend her garden when he was young. The memory brings with it a spark of pain, and he turns away quickly and continues on.

He moves slowly through the exhibits, allowing himself to soak in the atmosphere, and by the time he has circled the whole area it is almost 1400 and he is becoming hungry. Fortunately there are several carts set up outside the entrance, selling various delicacies to tourists and locals alike.

Spock steps up to one and studies the menu before ordering a cheese and tomato omelette and a bottle of water. They arrive quickly and he eats while leaning against a wall nearby. He must have been more hungry than he thought, because the food disappears rapidly until all he is left with is crumbs. He disposes of the remnants in a nearby receptacle, then moves off, intending to explore the city for a while before he has to return and meet the captain.

He wanders around the streets for a while, admiring the architecture and occasionally investigating a store or artistic display. Gradually, however, he becomes aware of an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, accompanied by swells of nausea. He tries to ignore it, but it gets worse until he has no choice but to give up on his sightseeing and head back to the hotel.

He intends to lie down for a while, perhaps meditate, but his stomach has other ideas. He has barely reached his room when his nausea spikes and sends him hurrying for the bathroom.

His lunch is considerably less pleasant on the way up than it was on the way down, and Spock shudders as he flushes the toilet and pulls himself up to rinse out his mouth. He does feel a little better, though, and he allows himself to hope that perhaps he merely ingested something that did not agree with him, and this brief bout of illness will be the end of it. Unfortunately that quickly proves not to be the case.

He returns to the bathroom twice in the next half an hour, the first to vomit again, and the second when the cramping in his lower abdomen becomes impossible to ignore. It seems that the illness, intent on causing him as much discomfort as possible, is not content to confine itself to the upper end of his digestive tract.

By the end of the last bout he is weak and shivering, and the first thing he does when he leaves the bathroom is turn up the heat as far as it will go. The next thing he does is find his communicator and send Kirk a message saying that he will not be able to meet him for dinner. He suspects the captain will be disappointed, but there is no way he can go anywhere like this.

Once that is done, he curls up on his bed and tries to rest.

* * *

Back in his room, Kirk frowns at the message on his communicator. It's terse, even for Spock, and says only that Spock is unable to meet him for dinner tonight. No reason given, just 'unable'.

He frowns more deeply as he wonders what could have happened. Spock didn't seem to have any objections to meeting him when they discussed it this morning, and he's not the kind of person who would hide it if he did. So what could have made him change his mind?

Flipping the communicator closed, he decides to head upstairs and see if Spock is in his room. Maybe he can get some answers that way.

It doesn't take him long to reach Spock's room, and before he can talk himself out of it he raises a hand and knocks sharply on the door.

There's no response, and he wonders if maybe Spock is out. But just as he's raising his hand for another knock, the door slides open to reveal Spock.

He stares at Kirk for a moment, blinking. "Captain. What are you doing here?"

Kirk frowns at the title. "I'm here as a friend, Spock." He holds up his communicator and adds, "I wanted to know why you're standing me up for dinner."

Spock doesn't answer immediately, and Kirk frowns as he takes in his appearance. He looks… off. Paler than usual, and his usually perfect clothing looks rumpled. "Are you okay?"

Spock's eyes narrow. "I am fine, Cap- Jim. I merely do not require sustenance at this time." He swallows before continuing, "I appreciate your concern, but it is unnecessary. Please, enjoy your dinner." His voice shakes slightly, and Kirk's frown deepens.

"Spock-" He begins, but he is cut off by Spock saying, " _Goodbye_ , Jim," and pushing the button to close the door.

It takes Kirk a second to react, but he manages to throw out a hand to prevent the door from closing. He has a vision of broken fingers, but fortunately the mechanism detects his hand and forces the door open again. He enters Spock's room just in time to see the bathroom door slide closed.

The first thing he notices is the warmth. According to the thermostat on the wall, Spock has turned the heat up to maximum. Then, as he moves closer to the bathroom, he picks up the sound of retching, and everything starts to make sense.

He sighs, shaking his head. Trust Spock not to just admit he isn't feeling well. He chews on his lip for a moment, then crosses to the replicator in the corner and orders a glass of ginger ale. His mom always gave him ginger ale when he was ill as a kid. Sometimes she used to sit with him and stroke his hair, but he doubts that'll work well with Spock.

It takes a few more minutes for Spock to emerge from the bathroom, and he leans against the doorway as he stares at Kirk, as if he can't quite believe he's real. "I asked you to leave," he says, sounding more tired than annoyed.

"Yeah, well, I didn't," Kirk replies. "How long have you been feeling ill?"

"I am not ill," Spock replies, as if the way he's leaning on the doorway isn't a dead giveaway.

"Right," Kirk replies. "So that wasn't you I heard throwing up in the bathroom a minute ago."

Spock's eyes narrow, but he doesn't deny it.

"How long?" Kirk repeats.

For a moment he thinks Spock isn't going to answer, but then he seems to surrender to the situation. "A few hours."

The lack of specificity is worrying, coming from Spock, but Kirk tries to make a joke of it. "What, no decimal places?"

Instead of answering, Spock makes his way to the bed and sits down, curling his legs up to his chest. Kirk feels a pang of sympathy and makes his way over with the ginger ale.

"Here," he says, holding the glass out to Spock. "This should help."

Spock studies the glass dubiously. "What is it?"

"Ginger ale," Kirk replies. "It's supposed to be good for upset stomachs."

Spock doesn't look convinced, but takes an obliging sip before setting the glass aside.

"Do you think it was something you ate?" Kirk asks, sitting down by Spock's feet.

"Do not mention eating," Spock replies with a grimace. "But I believe that to be the case, yes."

"Sorry." Kirk thinks for a moment. "Are you going to be okay? I could call Bones, but-"

"That will not be necessary," Spock interrupts.

"Are you sure? I know he can be a pain in the ass, but he's probably got something that can help you."

Spock sighs. "Doctor McCoy's medications inevitably make me nauseated. As I am already nauseated, I fail to see how his intervention would improve the situation."

Now that he thinks about it, Kirk does remember Spock mentioning something like that before. Apparently many of their common medications don't react well to Vulcan physiology.

"Guess we'll have to do things the old fashioned way," he offers.

Spock stares at him. "We?"

Kirk shrugs. "Someone has to make sure you don't pass out in the bathroom and die." He fixes Spock with a look and adds, "Do you know how hard it'd be to find another first officer I can work with?"

Despite his obvious discomfort, Spock seems to relax a little at the words. With a brief smile, Kirk turns on the screen on the wall and begins flicking through the options. "What we need," he says, "is a distraction."

He stops on an old movie he remembers watching as a kid. It's a little childish, but it should work well enough for his purposes. He moves round and pulls off his boots before stretching out on the bed next to Spock.

Spock doesn't object to the choice of entertainment, but they barely make it five minutes in before he slides off the bed and rushes to the bathroom. He returns pale and shaky and climbs under the covers without a word.

"You okay?" Kirk asks.

"No," Spock replies shortly, his gaze fixed on the screen. Kirk takes the hint and shuts up.

He watches Spock out of the corner of his eye as the movie continues. It's strange to see Spock like this; tired and sick and barely bothering to hide it. He's gotten used to Spock always being in control and put together. But it also gives him a warm feeling in his chest, like Spock trusts him enough to see him with his defences down.

"What do you think of the movie?" he asks.

"It is illogical," Spock replies. "Why do the children not just inform their parents of the strange events and allow them to deal with it?"

Kirk figures the obvious answer of 'because then there wouldn't be a movie' probably isn't what Spock's looking for. "What, you never came across something you didn't want to tell your parents about?" he asks. "When you're a kid it feels like adults control everything. Sometimes you just want to feel like you have something that's just yours. Even if it ends up getting you in trouble."

He isn't sure he's explaining it well, but to his surprise, Spock nods. Then he begins to speak. "When I was a child I would explore the mountains near to my home. When my father found out he punished me, and forbid me to return. But I still went. It was the only place I felt free to be myself."

It's probably the most personal thing Spock's ever told him, and it makes him think of his own childhood, running off into the cornfields to escape from everyone's expectations. "And you liked it, right?" he asks.

Spock nods. "Yes," he says. "I did." Then, as if deciding he has said too much, he turns away and picks up the glass of ginger ale.

They watch a little more of the movie while Spock sips at the ginger ale and Kirk continues to watch him out of the corner of his eye. At some point Spock's eyelids begin to droop and he leans against Kirk's side.

"You okay?" Kirk asks.

"Hmm," Spock replies. "I believe the ginger ale is helping."

Kirk nods, though he doubts Spock can see it. "My mom used to swear by it when I was a kid. Every time I was sick, out came the ginger ale."

"My mother used to sing to me when I was ill," Spock tells him. There's a faint wistfulness in his tone that makes Kirk ache.

"I could sing to you if it'll help," he offers. "Though I'm not sure you want me to. Bones says I sound like a cat in heat."

Spock shakes his head, his eyes closed. "You would not know the words," he says. "She sang in Vulcan."

With that he goes silent, and Kirk has to rescue the mostly empty glass of ginger ale before it spills across the covers.

"Rest, Spock," he whispers. "I'm here."

x x x

Spock sleeps the whole night through, and Kirk watches over him, eventually falling asleep next to him on the bed. When he wakes up, Spock is gone and he is alone.

He hears a noise from the bathroom and sits up, worried that Spock might be feeling ill again. But before he can do more than start to get up, the bathroom door slides open to reveal Spock. He is dressed in a clean shirt and pants, his hair wet as if from a shower.

"Jim," he greets. "You are awake."

"Yeah," Kirk replies, stifling a yawn. "How're you feeling?"

"Better," Spock replies. "My stomach is still unsettled, but I have not vomited for ten point four hours now, and I do not believe I will do so again."

Kirk smiles. "That's good."

Spock nods, then glances down. "Jim, I wish to thank you for… staying with me last night. Your presence was appreciated."

Kirk can't keep his smile from growing at that. "No problem," he replies. "That's what friends are for."

Spock meets his eyes, then, and gives him a tiny smile of his own. "Indeed," he says.


End file.
